


Pomegranates

by NotEvenCloseToStraight



Series: Fairy Tale AU's [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Awkward Flirting, Creator Gods are Horny Gods, Deadpool is Hades, Denial of Feelings, First Meetings, Hades!Wade, Happily Ever After, Hearing Voices, Implied Sexual Content, Insecure Wade, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Kidnapped Peter Parker, M/M, May is Demeter, Pain and Panic - Freeform, Patient Peter, Persephone!Peter, Peter is a Little Shit, Pomegranates, References to Hercules Movie, Sassy Peter, Sort Of, Soulmates, Spideypool - Freeform, Teasing, The Underworld, fated love, olympus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 11:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21507226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEvenCloseToStraight/pseuds/NotEvenCloseToStraight
Summary: : A Very Spideypool Twist on Hades/Persephone, in which Persephone!Peter is determined to love Hades!Wade, Cerebus is a good pupper and the Underworld doesn't stand a chance against Peter's flirting.///////“I just barely got Cerebus trained to be vicious again." Wade protested. "You’re going to ruin them!”“Oh no, not a vicious Cerebus!” Peter gasped in mock horror, then tipped his head back and whistled, and in the distance, Cerebus answered with an excited howl.“And um, if you’re going to stay, you’ll need a throne.” Wade said next and Peter’s eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Unfortunately there isn’t room for a second one in here so…”“So, I suppose I’ll have to sit on your lap.” Peter said solemnly. “Any other complaints, oh guardian of the Underworld?”“I thought I’d lost you.” Wade’s voice cracked then and Peter magicked a pomegranate blossom out of thin air and into his palm, dusting the petals over Wade’s lips.“Never, my love. Never.”
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Fairy Tale AU's [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566850
Comments: 67
Kudos: 1689





	Pomegranates

**Author's Note:**

> A very Spideypool twist on the Hades/Persephone story. It hurt my soul to not write 12381927 words of lore and mythology and world building on this, but I love what I managed to get down without going too far over the commission limit (which was 7500 words, and this is like, 12k but hey, its not THAT far over the commission limit, right?) Plus, I love a Peter who is determined to love Wade no matter what.
> 
> @pumpkin-spidey thank you for commissioning this and for allowing me to go a little wild with the interpretation and for responding to my nonsense emails while I chattered about random greek mythology bullshit… you’re the best!

In the beginning–

No. Not the beginning. In the _before_ the beginning, before the humans knew what the beginning was and wove stories to try and explain the cosmos–

In the _before_ the beginning, the Titans and giants ruled and the gods rose up to overthrow them. Anthony fought in the heavens and took the throne of Olympus, his heart glowing from his chest and lightning flashing in his palms. Steven fought among the waves, subduing the Hydra monsters and claiming the throne of the seas. The other gods settled through out the world, content with minor titles and various duties and Wade– Wade came to stand in the throne room of Olympus, his body twisted from the fight, his skin scarred from a thousand wounds, his immortality not enough to keep the _pain_ at bay, his psyche and soul shredded by brutality. 

There was still blood on his hands, the stink of ravaged Titans clinging to his shoulders, the wounds of countless battles trying and failing to heal. They called him _Deadpool_ now, the unkillable one, the unstoppable one, the one that came in the night with flashing swords and maniacal laughter. There would be stories written of the terror he’d brought to the giants, there would be songs sang in the dark of the way he killed, the way the victims screamed to the stars for help and none came. 

They had fought in the skies and in the depths but it had been _Deadpool_ that had fought in the worst of it all and turned the tide of war and for his prize, for his reward, for his _efforts_ –

“No.” Deadpool whispered, when Anthony took him to the place where the ground fell away and stairs dropped deep into the earth. “No, please–” he begged when the stench of the river reached his nose and the cries of a million souls yet to be collected came to his ears. “I deserve a seat in Olympus, I gave _everything_ to fight this war, don’t condemn me to the Underworld.” 

The lonely howl of the beast Cerebus and the cold _empty_ of a realm where nothing grew made Deadpool shiver and he fell to his knees, clutching at the green grass. “Don’t shut me away.” 

“All thrones need a ruler.” Anthony’s voice was unrelenting, but not unkind. “You are one of us trapped between living and gone, your soul in pieces but not destroyed, your body warped but unable to perish. You will reign over the Underworld, watching over the souls that linger, punishing those that deserve the darker places. Deadpool–” 

“–my name is _Wade_.” he choked out. “Please– _please_ –” 

“This is not a punishment.” the god said slowly. “Your power here will be limitless, you will be able to cover your scars, settle your mind, ease your pain. You are _hurt_ brother, and the brightness of Olympus would shatter all that is left of you. You are a being that is neither dead nor alive and here in the place below places, you will be home and you will be safe.”

“Home.” ~~Wade~~ Deadpool looked up to the sky, to the sunshine, to the flowers that bloomed and the trees that offered fruit and whispered, “But nothing grows down there.”

“Nothing dies, either.” Anthony strived for _comforting_ , but his words fell flat. “This is the safest I can make you, the only way I know to keep you from falling apart. In a place with no time, your descent to madness and pain will be halted.”

_Nothing dies either._

_What if I want to die?_

“Please.” Deadpool whispered, even as spectral hands came to drag him below. “… _please_ …” 

The throne of the Underworld was dark and cold, unforgiving rock and unrelenting stone and Deadpool huddled into the blue grey shadows to hide his scarred face. 

The river Styx flowed silent, the souls themselves hushed as if waiting for a proclamation from their new King and Cerebus held itself very still. 

From the darkness, from the corners, from the rotting places and damp rocks, slithering and creeping to the throne came _Panic_ and _Pain_ , winding their way into Deadpool’s mind and whispering in his head, voices in his ear, terror on his skin.

The Earth closed herself to him, and no sunlight came to touch his face, and even the Fates turned their back and let the golden strand of his life lie mangled and nearly torn, stained with blood and dulled to nearly black. 

And Deadpool threw his head back and screamed and screamed and _screamed._

**************

**************

There was no time in the Underworld, there was neither day nor night, not sunshine or rain. There was nothing but monotony, nothing but _sameness_ , nothing but cold and damp and muted colors, bare branches and silent waves, the wail of those in the darker places, the melancholy of those meant to whirl endlessly in the chasm, the quiet tears of the ones Charon carried between worlds. 

Deadpool lived a thousand lifetimes listening to terrible whisperings in his ear, suffered an eternity feeling his skin and body twist and shudder and _hurt_ and as Wade’s power grew in his new realm and he earned his place in legend and myth as Keeper of the Underworld, not even the endless amount of hours could still the loneliness in what was left of his soul, the _sadness_ in what was left of his heart. 

It was a century in the dark, a millennia in the shadows, a life time and a day, an hour and a decade, only a breath and then a terrifying amount of uncountable seconds, and the _sameness_ of it all drove Wade to the brink of madness and beyond, until the god that had fought the Titans was no more, and only the devil Deadpool remained. 

_Oh_ what he’d give to remember what sunlight felt on his face, to feel the grass in his fingers, to scent a cherry blossom, to taste the sweetly sharp juice of a pomegranate fruit, to breathe in fresh air and be around the living. 

But time marched on with unending steps into the suffocating _dark_ , and Deadpool sat on his throne with nothing more than Pain and Panic to keep him company, his true self lost and nearly forgotten in the memories of all but a few, alone and alone and _alone_. 

…until…

…They said the boy came into existence in the Spring, a child crafted from dew drops on a spider’s web and left lying on the flower petals for Demeter to find as she walked the fields and brought them to bloom for another season. 

_Peter_ , they called him. Demeter’s son, a child of May and the favorite of Anthony and Olympus. As he grew, he was able to bring Spring with a simple touch, banish Winter with his fingers and create entire forests bursting with life, the planet itself sparking at the sound of his voice. 

They said he was lovely and sassy with eyes that tinted gold in the sunshine and fingers that lit green with the color of _life,_ they said his laugh sounded like bells, and Deadpool could not imagine such a beauty. 

The only colors he saw anymore were black, blue and gray and the only bells he heard were death tolls and after an eternity alone in the _beneath,_ Deadpool was desperate for something – _anything_ – beautiful. 

“He brings life with just a touch.” Deadpool muttered to himself, staring at the barren trees lining the way to his throne. Their trunks were twisted and bark as marred as his skin, the branches reaching towards a dark sky with not a leaf or bud to be seen and for just a moment, for just a _moment_ he wondered, “If I could see something bloom one more time, perhaps the madness won’t take me. If I can see something live, perhaps the darkness won’t– won’t crush me.” 

And _Pain_ whispered, “ _You cannot go to the surface, the sun will ruin you_.” and _Panic_ insisted, “ _The boy will be too frightened of you and refuse to help_.” 

_Pain_ warned, “ _Death and life cannot coexist, the Fates won’t allow it_.” and _Panic_ shrieked, “ _You will bring the wrath of the gods with your selfishness_!” 

But Deadpool didn’t care. 

What did he have to lose, what could the other gods to to him for punishment? Toss him in a pit, hurt him, banish him from the light? 

He had nothing to lose and everything to gain, even it was just for a moment, a second, a _breath_ –

_He had nothing to lose._

****************

****************

“Peter!” May had shed the name Demeter centuries ago, preferring the name the humans chose as they worshiped her the change of seasons and the fertility she brought to their lands. “Peter, child where are you!” 

“May!” Peter burst from beneath the surface of the lake, shaking the water from his hair and laughing out loud over May’s startled surprise. “Look how beautiful.” he held out his palm to show off an exquisitely crafted flower with delicate petals. “I created this for the water nymphs. I think I’ll make them in a thousand different colors and call them _nymphaea_ – water lilies. Aren’t they lovely?” 

“Are you creating flowers to please yet another lover?” May raised her eyebrows and Peter wrinkled his nose in a teasing smile. “Some day one of your many consorts will demand your loyalty, and then what will you do? What happens when you find the one meant to be your eternal love, when the Fates wind your strand with another in an unbreakable bond? You cannot continue frolicking with a different companion every night.” 

“Anthony does.” Peter pointed out. “He has found the one meant to be his for all eternity and yet he has a _hundred_ lovers.” 

May rolled her eyes. “Do not strive to live your life like Anthony, my love. He has an eternal partner and a hundred lovers and a thousand children. He is irresponsible and wild and a thousand years has not changed that. If the humans had any idea how petty and reckless the god of Olympus was, they would not build him temples and praise his lightning.” 

“If the humans knew how petty the gods were, they wouldn’t worship _any_ of us.” Peter laughed, and at his side the flowers colored _brighter_ as nature reacted to the sound of his joy. “But I do not scatter children across the Earth or send my lovers into fits of jealousy where one or the other ends up cursed to be cows or peacocks!” 

May begrudgingly agreed and Peter continued, “When _I_ spend the night with a companion, flowers bloom and the trees bear fruit. I am a creator god, and my pleasure brings life, whether I find it with one partner or many. Surely there is nothing wrong with that.” 

“Surely not.” May allowed and dropped a kiss on her child’s forehead. “But you will change your mind when the Fates bring you your eternal love. Go on creating your water lilies for now, but don’t wander far. The Earth feels restless today and I’m not sure why. Guard yourself carefully.” 

“I’m fine.” Peter waved off her worries and dove back beneath the surface to design another lily, this one with brilliant purple flowers and leaves that stretched further than his reach, humming a quiet song and losing himself in the wonder of creation for longer than he realized. 

It was May who felt the change first, who felt the earth shift and open, felt Nature recoil as something that did not _belong_ rushed to the surface. There was a flash of light and a roll of shadows, the sound of horses thundering and chariots crashing, and May saw just the glimpse of Peter’s curls and the wild grasp of his hand as he scrambled for a hold, but it was too late. 

Disfigured arms reached out to snatch the boy away from the land and drag him down into the _beneath_ and when May screamed for her child, the fields beneath her feet went black with the force of her emotions. 

“Peter!” the goddess went running for the chasm, but it closed too quickly and May fell to her knees to dig at the Earth. “Peter!” Clouds filled thick and heavy across the sky, blanketing the sun and wiping out the light and May’s tears brought snow to the dying grass. 

Even the Fates themselves paused in their weaving when the goddess dug her fingers into the dirt, her eyes opening the color of raging wildfire, sparking and _furious_. 

“Give me back my child!” May screamed, and when she clenched her fists into the ground, black vines shot from her palms and crawled up the trunk of the nearest tree, strangling the life from it and leaving it barren within a few seconds. “PETER!” 

The dead tree burst into flame, the fields scorching in a path straight to where Peter had been swimming and turning the water to mist and the gods in Olympus froze when the atmosphere seemed to catch fire. 

“ _PETER_!” 

*****************

*****************

Peter didn’t scream when he was snatched from the water, nor did he cry out in surprise when he was unceremoniously dumped onto cold, rough rock and abruptly abandoned, the steel like pressure of arms at his waist falling away with the sound of footsteps and what sounded like _whispers_. 

He took a moment to orient himself, absentmindedly pulling the length of his chiton up from his waist and looping it over one shoulder so he wasn’t dripping wet and half bared to whichever eyes were watching. Then he cocked his head at the empty trees, at the hedge bushes that were nothing more than spindly branches. The river ran slow and sluggish, the air tasted stale and heavy and when Peter turned his palms over and tried to call his power, it came like _syrup_ through his veins until it finally glowed faint green on his skin. 

A noise like the skitter of claws on rock, whispers abruptly silenced by a near snarl, and Peter finally lifted his eyes to the raised dais to his left, up rough hewn stairs to a massive throne, and to the figure sprawled in the seat, and when the man on the throne shifted forward and leaned into the watery light, Peter’s mouth fell open in surprise. 

“Oh.” he breathed. “Oh, I know who _you_ are.” 

“I would hope so, there aren’t many faces like mine around.” A lifetime in the Underworld had turned Deadpool’s voice caustic, the words biting and nearly sneered. On someone else, the answer might have been sarcastic and quippy but from Deadpool it only sounded bitter. “Tell me, do they still call me Deadpool on the surface, or has my name evolved into something more human friendly? I hear they call Anthony _Zeus_ these days. _Zeus_. Ridiculous.” 

“The humans call you Hades.” Peter kept staring, his eyes brightening in interest and a smile curving his lips. “They think you and the realm you rule are one and the same, Hades and Hell, but on Olympus they still call you Deadpool. I’ve heard stories about you, you know.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Deadpool twitched uncomfortably beneath the boy’s perusal. “Am I still the horror stories told around campfires? The one the humans claim make them do horrible things? The _Devil_?”

“Oh no, I haven’t heard anything like that.” Peter either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the scorn nearly dripping from Deadpool’s words. “No, I meant I’ve heard the stories of how you fought the giants, how you drove the Titan’s back, and why you were sent here. You’re considered a hero, do you know? They have statues of you in Olympus.” 

_A hero?_ “…I see.” Deadpool said slowly, but it was obvious he didn’t see at all. 

“Besides, I don’t care what the humans say.” Peter laughed softly and out of the corner of his eye, Deadpool could have sworn he saw the river lighten for a split second. “They know nothing and pretend they know it all. Silly things. I don’t know why Anthony loves them so much.” 

“No doubt because they are naive enough to think we gods aren’t every bit as awful as humanity.” Deadpool tried not to cringe when Peter’s eyes found his again, the dark brown swirling gold as that _interested_ smile stretched even wider, a plush bottom lip caught between Peter’s teeth as he tipped his head and simply stared. 

Deadpool tried not to cringe but it had been a long time since anything other than the eyes of the dead had looked at him and now May’s child, a creator god, an embodiment of _life_ was standing in the realm of death, face to face with the one who hoarded the souls of the deceased. 

Deadpool didn’t want to cringe but the sun had hurt him even for the few seconds he’d been on the surface and the fresh air had stung his skin and he couldn’t stand to be so _hideous_ in the face of such beauty.

And Peter was _beauty_. Even wearing only a simple chiton with hair still drying into thick waves, even with a nearly painful curiosity in the golden eyes and with eerie, otherworldly green lighting the tips of his fingers, Peter was beauty alive and Deadpool was horror unending and it _hurt_. 

“What are you staring at!” He suddenly snarled, angry that he was so affected by the boy, almost furious that this– this _Adonis_ could be so blase about the moment, could be laughing and _looking_ as if nothing was wrong. “Do not stare at me!” 

“I’m sorry.” Peter startled from his focus and held up his hands peacefully. “I’m sorry, but I’ve heard so many stories of you and never once did they mention how handsome you are. I expected the Deadpool to be a monster, not–” he made a vague gesture. “I suppose I should be terrified, but I’ve never been scared of anything in my life and _certainly_ not of a man who looks like you.” 

“I am no man.” Deadpool’s heart startled when Peter’s nose scrunched in delight like he thought Deadpool were teasing. “You- you would be wise to fear me, child.” 

“Child.” Peter rolled his eyes and huffed as if annoyed. “How old must I be before I am no longer a child to you ancient gods! I have seen over two hundred summers already, and they still call me–”

“They say you can create life with nothing more than a touch.” Deadpool interrupted, pushing down the shiver of _wonder_ that Peter hadn’t recoiled from him like the other gods did, that he had called him _handsome_. It wouldn’t do any good to bask in the warmth that flowed from the creator god, nor to linger in the way Peter made Deadpool feel inexplicably whole. 

He wanted one thing from the beauty– “Lies.” _Panic_ hissed. “You want everything from him!” – and then he would let the god go. 

“You will make something grow and then I will let you leave.” He said quickly. “Bring something to bloom and you’ll have my permission to leave.”

“That’s it?” Peter looked over his shoulder to peer at the river and then twisted to the other side to look at the hedges. “You went through all the trouble of kidnapping me just so I would make something grow?” 

“I–” Deadpool blinked a few times. “Yes. That’s it. You will make something grow, and then you are allowed to leave my realm.” Peter waited, and Deadpool hesitated before adding, “Why else would I kidnap you?” 

“Because I’m beautiful!” Peter laughed as if it made perfect sense. “I assumed you wanted my company, not my creator power! Being kidnapped for a moment with a lover would be so much more fun than simply _growing_ things, don’t you think?” 

“You–” _No, he cannot be serious_. “You thought I kidnapped you because I wanted–wanted a rendezvous? You thought I snatched you from the surface because I wanted to see beneath your robes?” Deadpool laughed but it was an ugly sound. “You’re _joking_.” 

“Why would I be joking?” Peter asked frankly. “You are very handsome and I’m a creator god, I’m _gorgeous_. I assumed you could not join me in the sunshine so you brought me here instead.” 

“And you’re alright with that?” Deadpool asked incredulously. “Are you standards for your lovers so low?”

“Well, it’s not the most traditional proposition I’ve ever received.” Peter winked and Deadpool swore felt it to his _soul_. “But I can assure you, it would not take much convincing to bring me around.” 

“I feel as if I’m missing an opportunity here, but I didn’t bring you here for that.” Deadpool slumped back into his throne and pulled his hood over his face. 

For a moment he’d almost wanted to laugh but his reality was far too harsh for something so lighthearted. No matter how teasing and flirty Peter was, everything would change if he saw Deadpool’s face in the light, and the god would rather Peter make something bloom and be gone than risk the humiliation of having the beauty look on him with pity, or _worse_ , recoil in horror. 

“Make something grow and be gone.” He said hoarsely. “ _Please_.” 

“I’ll have to have your permission to leave, won’t I?” Peter knelt and swept his fingers over the soil curiously, bringing a few bits to his tongue to taste the acidity “Not even the gods on Olympus can pass through your realm alone, much less a lesser god like me.” 

“That’s correct–” 

“Oh!” Peter jumped up again, eyes wide. “Could I see Cerebus? You brought me down through a split in the earth so we didn’t come to the gates! Could I see them before I go?” 

“…you want to see Cerebus?” Deadpool asked in confusion. “Child, you should be–” 

“My name is Peter.” he interrupted. “May calls me _child_ and so does Anthony but I not near as innocent nor half as guileless as they want to believe. if you and I are to be friends, you should call me Peter.”

“Friends.” Hope bloomed before Deadpool could squash it, an eternity of loneliness sparking with _anticipation_ for just a second before it was gone. “And– and why would you think we are friends?” 

“Well we aren’t lovers yet, but we certainly aren’t strangers anymore.” Peter winked again and Deadpool had to call his power to physically _quell_ the reaction the pretty brunette brought around in him. “Friends seems appropriate for now, don’t you think?” 

All creator gods were like this, Deadpool reminded himself. They were always half drunk on too much oxygen and herbal aphrodisiacs, sweetly flower scented and warmed from the sun. The act of making _life_ moved so easily towards making _love_ that gods like Peter, like could hardly help the way they were drawn to others and others were drawn to them. 

But Deadpool was hideous, twisted and deformed, scarred and ruined and Peter should not be staring, much less winking and _flirting_ –

“You will make something grow.” he said again, ignoring the pull in what was left of his soul, ignoring the way he nearly itched to be closer to Peter and bask in the glow of _life_. It didn’t mean anything, it was just the thrum of a creator god, Peter’s power twisting in the air and creating a connection between them that wasn’t truly there. It didn’t mean _anything_. “I don’t care if it’s simply grass or a single bloom. Make it grow, then you will be free to–” 

“–see Cerebus?” Peter finished, and flattened his palms to the trunk of the barren tree. “Yes, I very much want to see your pet.” 

“They aren’t my _pet_ , they are a beast to guard the gates to this realm.” Deadpool argued and when Peter scrunched his nose again in obvious disagreement, Deadpool chuckled and said, “Pete, I’m not going to let you waltz over and pet Cerebus’s nose.” 

“You called me Pete.” Peter’s eyes lit golden in approval as his magic ran through his body and out through his hands. “See? You already like me!” 

Deadpool scowled but it wasn’t in anger. He had called the creator god _Pete_ , had slipped through with a nickname without even realizing, had laughed a little bit without any effort at all. It was the power of life, of creation that was so unexpected in this realm and _that_ was why he had let his guard down. 

_It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t mean anything._

“Come to me.” Peter’s voice was soft and sweet then, nearly a croon and practically a purr and Deadpool’s head snapped up, his body jolting forward as if he’d been physically _yanked_ by it, his eyes going helplessly to where Peter had pressed his forehead to the bark of the tree and was whispering, “ _Eláte, ómorfo_ , come here beautiful, grow for me. _Grow_.” 

Deadpool held his breath and in the silence that followed, _Panic_ slithered to his ear and hissed, “ _Nothing grows here, not in the underworld. Death and life cannot coexist_.” 

He didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to _listen_ , but Panic’s words were terribly prophetic as Peter leaned away from the tree and stared down at his palms in confusion. 

“It didn’t work?” Peter sounded entirely mystified. “I can’t believe– why didn’t it–” he called his power again and this time his palms lit with a dark, vibrant green that made the very air seem to spark around them and Deadpool held his breath—

– _nothing_. 

“Hm.” Peter clicked his tongue and shrugged. “Perhaps I need time to adjust to this realm. Come on, shall we explore?” He held out his hand to Deadpool and waited with an expectant smile. 

“…what are you doing?” Deadpool asked slowly, inching backwards in his throne until he was nearly plastered to the back rest, his breath coming hard and uneven, fingers digging furrows into the rock as every cell in his body screamed to go to Peter and _Pain_ and _Panic_ screamed for him to _stay put_. 

“I can’t very well wander here alone.” Peter said, as if that were a perfectly valid reason for Deadpool to take his hand and escort him through the Underworld. “Usually when I wander I lay a trail of flowers behind me so I don’t get lost but until my power sparks again, that isn’t an option. How else will I find my way around?” 

“You’ve been to Olympus.” Deadpool’s fingers bled where they scraped stone to keep himself from running to Peter. “The place is a mirrored copy of the mountain top. Don’t you recognize the throne room?” 

Peter’s brow furrowed, his features pinching as he looked around the cavernous space, then his expression cleared in understanding. “Ah. It’s Olympus but without the glitter and gold, without the flowers and flowing fountains. Still a domain of the gods, but–” 

“–but dark.” Deadpool finished, and then with a grimace and far more vulnerability than he intended, “Ugly. There is no beauty here.” 

Creator gods were drawn to beauty, drawn to life and laughter and it didn’t make any sense for Peter to be smiling that way at Deadpool or for his eyes to be lit quite so warm as he replied, “Humility among the gods is as rare as an eclipse, who knew I’d find it here in the Underworld? What could you possibly mean, no beauty here?” 

It would have been easy to discount Peter’s words as kindness, his flirting only flattery for a captor. It was _easy_ to think the beauty talked of propositions as if they were already lovers because creator gods were lovers to almost everyone. But _Panic_ was snarling lies into his ear and suddenly– suddenly Deadpool had to know, he had to _know_ –

“Pete.” There was the nickname again, easy and natural as if they’d known each other for centuries, as if they were friends and it felt so right, Deadpool couldn’t believe it. “Pete?” 

“Yes?” Peter’s chiton had slipped down his shoulder again, baring sun bronzed skin glittered with gold and Deadpool couldn’t tear his eyes away. “What is it?” 

“Why–why—” Deadpool wet his lips anxiously. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be nervous, to be unsure. He’d been angry for so long, and after he was angry he was _cold_ and then he’d become numb and he’d forgotten everything else. “….why don’t you flinch from me?” 

Peter’s red lips parted, one slim shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “Why did you kidnap me?” 

“…because you are beautiful.” Deadpool didn’t mean to be honest, he didn’t mean to even be _kind_ but something about Peter soothed his edges, calmed the anger in his soul and even just these few moments in the creator god’s presence had tempered the furious whisperings of _Pain_ and _Panic_ at his side. 

Deadpool didn’t understand, but he was grateful all the same. “I took you because you are beautiful.” 

“I think our answers are the same.” Peter held out his hand again and that damnable _hope_ bloomed in Deadpool’s chest again. “Now then. You’ll walk with me around this place? Mirror of Olympus or not, I am hopelessly lost without my plants to guide me, and the last thing you’d want is someone like _me_ wandering your realm. Imagine the chaos if I found Cerebus and tried riding them through your Kingdom.” 

“Cerebus would never let you ride them.” Deadpool stated, fighting a smile, fighting the growing anticipation that perhaps his eons of loneliness could be drawing to a close. Peter wasn’t flinching from him, wasn’t running away, wasn’t acting as if he desperately wanted to leave. It was more than Deadpool could have ever hoped for after everything and maybe–just _maybe_ the Fates had decided to grant him just a bit of happiness. 

But still, he tried to temper his smile as he said, “Cerebus is vicious, Pete. They are more likely to bite your hand than allow you to pet them.” 

Peter had no such qualms about hiding his smiles, and the room lit with his brilliance as he returned, “Are you sure? I’ve never met a dog I didn’t love.”

“You should be in a hurry to leave this place, you know.” Deadpool finally peeled himself off the throne and came down the steps, close but not too close to Peter, letting his his sleeves fall over his hands to hide the scars. “Not trying to adopt the guardian of the Underworld.” 

“And you should be in a hurry to make me leave.” Peter countered, tipping his head back and back to meet Deadpool’s eyes, his hair falling loose and curled around his face. “Not standing here being so _tall_ and tempting me to try and climb you like a tree.” 

“Climb me like a–” Deadpool _shouted_ with unexpected laughter. “Pete–!” 

“Come on!” Peter laughed too, reached for Deadpool’s hand and clasped their fingers together, humming when the god shivered at the gentle touch. “Show me your world.” 

****************

****************

Deadpool did not let go of Peter’s hand as they walked, even as the creator god dusted his fingers across various plants and tried to spark something green. Every once in a while there was a flash, sometimes even a burst of color but it never stayed and when it inevitably faded, Peter only shrugged and moved on. 

And Deadpool didn’t let go of his hand, not sure if he even _could_ at this point. The energy that rolled through Peter’s body was almost intoxicating, electrifying and Deadpool felt as if his fingers were nearly fused to the other god’s, woven together and unable to separate. 

_Before_ the beginning, creator gods were hidden away and protected from the Titans and the giants and Deadpool had only heard of them in theory, in passing, in whispers from the more lecherous of the gods as they talked about aphrodisia that hovered above sun warmed skin, lips stained red from berries and kisses. 

He’d never been this close to a creator god, had never touched one, had never had one turn and offer him a smile or tease and flirt, or stare at him as if he _gorgeous_ instead of cringe away as if he were hideous.

It was unbelievable and almost too good to be true, and when they stopped at the banks of the river and Peter knelt to peer curiously into the water, it was then that Deadpool caught sight of his own reflection and realized that it _was_ too good to be true. 

All the time he had been in the Underworld, Deadpool had never sought his own reflection. It was telling enough that the newly arrived souls shuddered in horror when they saw him, that even Charon would not meet his eyes, that Cerebus whined and ducked their heads when he approached. 

Deadpool could see the scars on his hands and could feel the itch of pain on his face and didn’t need a reflection to tell him he was ruined. 

Anthony had promised the Underworld would heal him, and as Deadpool stared down at the reflection of clear skin and nearly blonde hair, he suddenly understood _why_ Peter hadn’t cringed away. 

_Too good to be true._

The creator god was drawn to beauty and somehow this realm allowed Deadpool to look how he did before the war, when he’d rivaled Anthony and Steven in looks and the goddesses and nymphs had fought over who would lie in his bed each night. 

Peter didn’t see him _,_ he saw the glamour the Underworld had afforded him and that was all it was, that was the basis for the attraction that flowed thick between them and the reason Peter didn’t drop Deadpool’s hand and run away. 

_Too good to be true._

“How long did it take the scars to heal?” Deadpool startled from his thoughts when Peter squeezed at his hands. “The stories all say the war ruined you, ruined your body, but I can’t see it. How long did it take them to heal?” 

“They haven’t healed.” Deadpool looked down at his palms, at the rough patches and raised lines that only he could see, the _awfulness_ of it contrasting so sharply with Peter’s flawless skin. “It’s an illusion, one I didn’t realize had taken affect. This is why you didn’t scream when I grabbed you, why you are drawn to me. I’m not healed but the Underworld has given me a glamour to cover it.” 

“I wouldn’t stare in horror even if you _weren’t_ glamoured.” Peter countered and Deadpool denied, “That’s easy for you to say that when you are not seeing it.” 

Something like sadness flickered through Peter’s eyes, turning the honeyed brown almost black, and he turned on his heel to press his hand to the ground and whisper to the dirt, green rippling from his palms and then fading into nothing. “Damn. Not quite. Come walk with me some more and I will try again–” 

“Leave it be.” Deadpool was still staring at his own reflection, a mix of awe and revulsion making bile rise in his throat. 

_This_ was why Peter was willing to stay, _this_ was why the creator god was letting his power spark and form a connection that felt nearly intimate. If Peter were _really_ seeing him, the beauty would have turned tail and screamed to be returned to the surface, he wouldn’t be flirting and teasing and insisting on holding Deadpool’s hand as they wandered. 

“ _You are stupid for hoping_.” _Panic_ whispered and _Pain_ chimed in, “ _This will be another memory to hurt later on. Let him go.”_

“ _Tell him to leave_.” 

“ _You were banished here alone, why would you think the Fates would grant you someone so beautiful as company_.” 

“Do you hear that?” Peter tipped his head in confusion, and shook his head. “The whispers, are they constant? Is that the–” he gestured to the river. “–the souls? Or the wind that sounds like voices or–” 

“You should go.” Deadpool dropped Peter’s hand and stepped away, hunching his shoulders and turning his back. “Go on. You have my permission to leave.” 

“You told me I had to make something grow before I returned home.” Peter’s eyes flickered dark again but his tone was light, expectant. “I’m not leaving until I bring something beautiful here. Something beautiful besides _you_ , I mean.” 

He was flirting again and it _hurt_ like nails raking down Deadpool’s cheek. “ _You_ are the something beautiful.” he said hoarsely. “The only thing beautiful this world will ever know. Now _go_.” 

“Why are you hiding from me?” Peter reached for Deadpool’s hand and frowned when the god jerked away. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” 

“You are being kind to me because you only see this form.” Deadpool said bitterly. “You creator gods, you are only drawn to beauty and if you saw me in my true form you would turn away from me. I thought perhaps the Fates—” 

Deadpool shut up, wrenching his hand free from Peter and putting it over his mouth. “Leave. Get out. Consider this your permission to go to the surface and _get out_.” 

“What did you say?” Peter reached for Deadpool’s hand again and matched the span of their fingers. “About the Fates?” 

“I said nothing about the Fates and I told you to get out.” Deadpool couldn’t look away from their hands, the heat gone from his words and _defeat_ evident in the slump of his shoulders. “May is no doubt unleashing some sort of awful Winter on the surface world as she searches for you, and you do not belong in this realm. Leave.” 

“You don’t want me to go, and I do not want to leave.” Peter ignored everything else Deadpool said and stepped closer until they were nearly chest to chest. “What were you going to say about the Fates?”

“Only that they are cruel women to tempt me with you.” Deadpool whispered and Peter’s eyes tinted gold in understanding. “Leave before I make you stay. _Please_.” 

“I’ll stay until I can bring something to life.” Peter said decisively. “That is what we agreed on and that is what I will do. But first you must tell me your name.” 

“My name is Deadpool.” Deadpool’s emotions roiled over and his eyes flickered haunted red, the glamour fading from his skin and revealing the scars for one awful second. “Everyone knows that.” 

“What was your name before you were Deadpool?” Peter lay his hands gently, so gently where the scars had shown on Deadpool’s arm and stood on his toes to make their noses bump, smiling when the other god didn’t pull away. “Who were you _before_? Who are you really?” 

“ _Your name doesn’t matter_.” _Panic_ whispered, and _Pain_ agreed, “ _He won’t care anyway. You will tell him and he will leave and it won’t matter._ ” 

“ _Do you even remember it_?” 

“ _Are you anyone at all besides this monster_?” 

“My name.” Deadpool breathed out shakily. “…is Wade.” 

“Wade.” Peter’s finger tips lit light green as he reached for the hood and pushed it further away from Wade’s face, drew his fingers to Wade’s temples. “Kiss me.” 

“Pete–” 

“Kiss me.” Peter said again and Deadpool grimaced away from him. “No, no I know what you’re going to say about how creator gods want to kiss everything, how we make love as easily as we make life, but this is different. Please. Kiss me.” 

“I don’t think–” 

“Just one.” Peter’s touch was soft and so _so_ warm and Wade could have fallen apart beneath it. “What will it hurt? One kiss. Please?”

He had nothing to lose and it had been so long since Wade had known anything _beautiful_ at all, so he gave in, bent down, leaned in to press his lips to Peter’s and swallow the quiet gasp the gorgeous brunette made. 

“Oh-h-h–” Peter sighed and chased the kiss, the vibrant green at his hands heating until Wade’s entire body was _thrumming_ with energy. “Wade…” 

Too long Wade had been jagged pieces and sharp edges and but as their kiss lengthened, _deepened_ , his brittleness melted into slow, caramel languidness that began and ended with Peter’s drugging mouth, the sweet taste of Spring and the verdant suddenness of sunshine–

–and somewhere in their place between places, the Fates wove a strand of gray so dark it was nearly black with a red as ruinous as blood, and put them together with a brown that shifted gold in the light and a lush, living green. 

“Interesting.” One said to the other, and the other said to a third, “We did not see this.” and the third set the strands as _stone_ and decided, “What Fate has brought together, not even the gods will tear apart. A creator will love a guardian of souls.”

**************

*************

There was no time in the Underworld, so it might have been minutes or it might have been days, as Wade and Peter wandered hand in hand along the paths of the god’s realm. It could have been an entire season or nothing more than an hour as they shared kisses that grew more and more heated with each pass, Peter’s power flexing in the air like aphrodisia, Wade helpless against the pull and not caring to try and stop. 

Some things were meant to be, some fated lines were meant to cross, and though Wade knew the surface world was no doubt paying for his selfishness, for his _boldness_ in snatching a god of Spring and Growth, it was difficult to care when Peter was laughing and bells were ringing, when Peter was teasing and Wade was _whole_. 

It could have been a hundred years for all the time between them lasted, a million steps they took in no particular direction, a thousand quiet conversations that didn’t have to mean anything at all. 

They went aimlessly through gardens every bit as grand as those in Olympus but empty, the vines brown and brittle, the ground littered with the remains of petals that had fallen before they’d even opened all the way. They explored the winding maze hat was nothing more than spindly branches and tangled hedges, paused at fountains that had never flowed, sat at benches that had never been used. 

The orchards were empty and bare, the trunks twisted as if wrenched by force into horrid shapes and though animal eyes peered from behind walls and out of darkness, the shapes that separated from the shadows weren’t quite _right_ , not quite _normal_ , and Peter pressed a little closer to Wade as they passed. 

The only creature Peter didn’t shy away from was Cerebus, in fact the creator god greeted the beast with wide smiles and awed exclamations and Wade didn’t know whether to smile or to curse when the three headed monster huffed at Peter’s clothing and then simply fell at the god’s feet and blinked up at him in adoration.

“Oh you beauty.” Peter crooned, getting right down on the ground next to Cerebus and patting at each head in turn. “What a lovely creature. There is nothing like you on the surface, nothing at all, you are _magnificent_.” 

“He is a monster.” Wade disagreed and Peter scowled at him– or gave the closest approximation to a scowl he could manage when he was flushed pink in happiness and laughing out loud as massive teeth closed whisper soft over his wrist as Cerebus demanded more attention. 

“Just because he is _different_ doesn’t mean he is a monster.” Peter denied and pushed his face into one of Cerebus’s foreheads. “There is beauty found everywhere, if only people would look.” 

Wade felt the approval and acceptance from the creator god as healing _balm_ on his skin and once Peter had murmured at least a hundred praises of ‘ _good dog_ ’ and relinquished his hold on Cerebus, he pulled Peter back up into his arms and buried his face in the curve of Peter’s neck. 

“Alright?” Peter asked softly, holding Wade just as tight for just as long. “Are you ever so devastated that I’ve ruined the guardian of the gates?” 

“I’m sure he’s perfectly worthless.” Wade said dryly and when Peter laughed, he tipped the brunette’s chin up for a long kiss. “Walk with me, Pete.” 

“I’m right here.” Peter scrunched his nose and kissed Wade right back. “ _You’re_ the one not doing the walking, oh god of the Underworld.” 

Wade laughed which was– well it was surprising all on it’s own, and tugged Peter further down the path, ignoring Cerebus’s whines and quiet growls at having their new friend taken away. 

“May says the Fates always know where our lives are leading.” Peter said sometime– maybe _days_?– later, green sparkling everywhere he touched, there and gone again, bright and then dimming, flaring with life before succumbing to the call of death. Peter didn’t even seem to notice, his touches too casual to be purposeful, his eyes either on Wade’s face or on the creatures that flitted on the shadows. “And the harder we pull on the strings, the tighter the Fates draw them until we have no choice but to walk the path they design.” 

“Are you saying I was fated to rule the Underworld?” 

“Whatever you were fated for, it led to our paths crossing, even if it’s only for today and that is enough for me.” Peter yanked Wade in for a kiss that went on and on and _on_ until the creator god was gasping and shivering and Wade was clutching at his sides with a sort of desperation he’d never thought he’d feel again. 

“Peter.” he whispered, and the beauty smiled into another kiss. “Lovely, you practically bloom when we touch.” 

“If we were on the surface there would be new flowers appearing every time we were together.” Peter decided and Wade left a gentle kiss on his palm. “I’d create entire forest for you, my love. Moonflowers and jasmine and night orchids. Beauty that you could enjoy without the sun hurting you. Which one is your favorite?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Pete.” Wade denied but Peter insisted, “Tell me! I want to try to make something for you!” 

“I–” Wade didn’t want to tell the creator god how badly it would hurt if even after all this time together– or, the _little_ time together perhaps. How long had it been? Had he loved Peter forever, or was it still only a few minutes?– he didn’t want to tell Peter how badly it would hurt to love and to be loved, for it was certainly _love_ brightening golden brown eyes, and then to see even _that_ wasn’t enough to bring life to the Underworld, to bring beauty to this domain. 

“Tell me.” Peter swept aside the folds of Wade’s robe and and pressed his hands to the god’s chest, humming and sighing when Wade leaned into the touch with a quiet moan. “ _Mmmm_ , do my hands feel good, my love? Like sunshine, isn’t it, but no pain?” 

“No pain.” Wade tugged the sleeve of the chiton off Peter’s shoulder and mouthed over the glitter on the creator gods skin, reveling in the pleased sound Peter made, the way the brunette pushed tighter into his arms. “I only feel you, Pete.” 

“What is your favorite thing in the entire world?” Peter pressed. “What is your favorite flower, your favorite fruit/ I want to make something bloom for you, don’t make me guess. Time between lovers should be spent learning each other but not all learning requires questions. I’d rather learn by touch, but first I want you tell me just one thing. Please?” 

“…Pomegranates.” Wade could practically feel the strands linking his and Peter’s hearts and souls strengthening, weaving, settling as he admitted,“Pomegranates are my favorite and I haven’t had them since before the Titan’s fell.” 

“Then that’s what I’ll make for you.” Peter decided and with one last kiss, he pulled away to crouch on the ground and rake his fingers into the dirt. “What this is between us has brought my power back to the surface, look.” he held up his hands to show Wade the brilliantly green glow. “Be still, my love. Be still and _watch_.” 

This time Peter lifted his chiton above his knees and knelt on the ground, spread his hands wide and leaned over until his forehead touched the cold soil as well, and Wade held his breath–the Underworld held it’s breath– in the places between places the Fates stopped in their weaving and _waited_ –

–and Peter whispered something soft and sweet, gentle and coaxing, clicking his tongue and trilling under his breath–

–and the ground _exploded_ with the force of life, a trunk shooting skyward and weaving together with supple limbs, leaves bursting from the tips and coloring gorgeous green, flowers unfurling in all the colors of sunrise and then _fruit_ , ripening heavy and round and _plentiful_ until the branches strained to hold themselves upright.

“Oh!” Peter fell back onto his heels and clapped his hands. “Oh, I did it! Wade, _look_!” 

Wade _was_ looking, but he wasn’t looking at the tree. He was staring at the creator god laughing in excitement, at the way Peter’s eyes were wide with wonder as if the pomegranate tree was the first thing he’d ever created, the way Peter kept glancing at him as if for approval. 

“ _Gods_ , you’re beautiful.” he whispered, and Peter’s cheeks flushed a surprised, pleased pink, his eyes sparkling gold. “Pete, you are the most beautiful _wonder_ –”

“Taste.” Peter broke the first fruit in half and scooped the seeds from the inside, holding up his fingers to Wade’s mouth and gasping when the god sucked them into his mouth with a low moan. “How-how is it?” 

“Peter.” Wade pushed the rest of the fruit away and crushed their mouths together, sharing the sweetness and holding Peter as tight as he could. Moonflowers and night orchids burst into bloom at their feet and Peter laughed again as his power _surged_ between them in a blast of warm air. 

Wade fell backwards onto a ground suddenly covered in thick grass and Peter landed on top of him, hands roaming and legs tangling and mouths meeting again and again and _again_. It could have been weeks, it could have been _years_ while Wade remembered what it was to love and Peter proved how easy it was to learn someone with nothing more than touches and whispered _yes_ and _please_ and _more, my love, always always more_. 

It could have been a hundred years lost in each other’s arms, an entire millennia while the strands of Fate wove tighter and tighter between them until Peter wasn’t sure where he left off and Wade began, where creation and life met death and end but it didn’t _matter_ when their kisses were stained with pomegranate juice and their skin was slick with sweat and Peter was–

“Ah!” He cried out, breaking away from a drugging kiss and rolling out from beneath Wade, clutching at his head. “ _Ow ow ow_ –” 

“Pete?” Wade sat up in an instant, adjusting his tunic to cover more of himself and reaching for the brunette. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

“I can feel um–” Peter shook his head, dazed from the sudden drop of swimming in pleasure to nearly crying from pain. “I can feel May, feel her anger– the surface– Winter–” 

“She’s taking her pain out on the humans because she can’t punish me for taking you.” Wade realized. “She can’t see in here to know you are fine.” 

“I forgot you kidnapped me.” Peter managed a laugh, and shook his head. “I’ve been so lost in you, I don’t even know how long we’ve been here, I forgot how it all started. I have to go and see her so she stops unleashing blizzards on the surface.”

“–you have to go?” Ice cold reality crashed over Wade, rocking him to his core with a rush of horror, the woven strands that tied he and Peter’s souls _straining_ at the thought of being apart.

Peter only sighed as if the entire thing was a simple inconvenience. “I’ll come back, my love. Give me time to soothe May and right whatever the Winter has ruined above and I’ll come back as soon as I can.” 

“But Pete if you leave, you can’t–” Wade started to answer but _Pain_ dug it’s claws into his calves and muttered, “ _Better to let him leave_.” and Panic whispered, _“If he knows he cannot come back, he will feel obligated to stay, then he will resent you_.” 

“ _He will hate you and wither to nothing if you make him stay_.” 

“Wade?” Peter held out his hand and waited for Wade with raised eyebrows. “I’ll need your help to leave, won’t I? Come on.” 

Wade got to his feet and clasped at Peter’s hand, swallowing back his _fear_ as he said, “You have my permission to leave, Pete. You don’t need anything more than that. But–but you can’t take anything with you, or you’ll be bound to this place. If you leave now, you are free but if you take anything with you, you will be forced to return.” 

“You don’t _have_ to force me to return.” Peter said with a quiet laugh, pressing at Wade’s palm and falling into step beside him. “Look at the beauty we’ve created together! I’ll come back of my own will.” 

_But if you leave, you won’t be allowed back in._

Wade pushed the truth of it away, pushed away the _Panic_ at the thought of losing Peter when he’d only just found him, pushed away the _Pain_ of facing another eternity alone. “It’s _very_ important that you take nothing with you, Pete. Being bound to this place is not like visiting, do you understand? It’s awful, and I won’t let you do that.” 

_I’d rather lose you forever, then bind you here against your will._

“I understand!” Peter insisted. “But stop worrying! You are staring at me as if I’ll never–” he frowned. “Wade?” 

“Pete.” Wade cupped his jaw and forced the creator god to meet his eyes. “Give me the pomegranate.” 

“Wade–” 

“Give it _here_.” he ordered again and Peter gave another one of those put out sighs before withdrawing a handful of seeds from the folds of his chiton. “Pete, if you took these with you and ate them along the way, you would _have_ to return. You wouldn’t have a choice, and I don’t want to do that to you.” 

“You think if I don’t have a choice, I’ll grow to hate you and this place.” Peter realized slowly. “You want me to come back of my own free will to prove–” 

“–not to prove anything.” Wade hastened to correct him. “No Pete, not like that. But I don’t want you to hate me. Whatever this has been, whatever we have here, I want it– I want–” 

“You think I’ll leave here and never come back.” Peter whispered. “Don’t you? You’d rather give me the choice of never coming back than let me be bound here with you.” 

_Yes._

_No._

_Oh god, please please stay with me._

“I think you’ll find the sunshine and forget about the shadows.” Wade said around the lump in his throat, around the _strangle_ of the strands of Fate as they strained to nearly breaking. “You will find your other lovers and forget about me.” 

“How dare you.” For the first time since Wade had snatched him below, Peter’s eyes dimmed, the glow disappearing from his skin. “You think so little of me, after all we’ve shared?” 

“You are a creator god.” The words were ash in Wade’s mouth, bitter and painful but he said them anyway, spoke over the slither and hiss of _Panic_ and _Pain_. “You love whoever is beautiful at that moment and then you move on. You think I am beautiful, but the truth is, I am not and when you return to true beauty, you won’t want to come back to me. It’s your nature and I will not try to change that.”

“ _No_!” Peter came close to Wade and shook his head. “No, you are wrong. I know you feel it, I know you can feel _Fate_ winding through us. This is not my magic, this is not my nature, this is truth and eternal and–”

“You have my permission to go.” _Heartbreak_ , a new voice, companion to _Pain_ hovered over Wade’s shoulder. “But do not feel as if you owe me anything to return. You’ve done what I asked and made something grow and now you are free to leave.” 

“I don’t know if I should be angry with you for assuming I will forget you, or love you for giving me the freedom to do so.” Peter’s eyes were nearly black in sadness and the grass at the base of the pomegranate tree started to wither. “Will you kiss me before I go? One more time?” 

“Peter–” 

“ _Kiss me,_ damn you _._ ” Peter threw his arms around Wade’s neck and yanked him down into a fierce kiss, crushing their mouths together and biting down into Wade’s lip until he drew blood and the other god _cursed_ , held him tighter, kissed Peter back until neither of them could even breathe. 

And then Peter’s eyes swirled gold with affection and a sweet sort of satisfaction that Wade didn’t understand, the creator god’s fingertips lit green as he brushed them over Wade’s temples and down along the line of his jaw. “You taste like pomegranates, my love. A taste and a beauty I will _never_ forget.” 

“Go on.” Wade said raggedly, pushing Peter away gently but firmly. “Peter go, get out. Get out before I change my mind.” 

“I’ll come back to you.” Peter promised, but Wade turned his back and shook his head, and Peter went on his way. 

Lost in the gathering darkness, hiding from the sight of the Earth opening to allow Peter back to the surface, Wade didn’t see Peter leave, and when Cerebus didn’t lift his head and howl in anguish as the Earth closed above them again, Wade knew even the dog was heart broken. 

But he hadn’t seen Peter kneel by Cerebus’ post and whisper, “I’ve done a wicked thing, you lovely beast. I’ll see you soon.” and he hadn’t seen Peter pause by the pomegranate tree and whisper a blessing into the flowers.

Stumbling for his throne and slumping into the gloom, ~~Wade~~ _Deadpool_ saw nothing but _Pain_ and _Panic_ , _Heartbreak_ and _Self-Loathing_ writhing around his feet–

–and clawing up his legs to get to his heart. 

*************

*************

The Winter on the surface ceased as abruptly as it began, the blizzards easing and lightning calming the moment Peter stepped from the Underworld and reached out his arms for May.

“You are over reacting.” He scolded the goddess teasingly, letting his power flex and warm the frigid air, bringing flowers to bloom to make May smile. “I left to spend time with a lover and you devastate the human’s with an unending Winter! You cannot be so angry when I am reckless!” 

“A lover.” May repeated in disbelief. “Peter, you were _kidnapped_! Taken from me! The Earth opened up and swallowed you and you– you—” Peter raised his eyebrows and May cursed out loud. “By Olympus. Peter! You took Deadpool as a lover?”

“He’s very handsome, May.” Peter said absentmindedly, dusting his hands over the banks of snow and banishing them with a flick of his wrist. “Lonely, too. I would not wish a banishment to the Underworld on anyone, let alone someone who helped fell the Titans.” 

“His body and mind could not survive the aftermath, and living in a place where time is still was the only way to save him.” May relented quietly, sadly. “There was a time when Deadpool was the most beautiful of us all, but the things he did in the war– they _ruined_ him, Peter. You have to be _careful_ with this. It is in your nature to be drawn to those that need love but you have to be _careful_. Deadpool’s power might have eased his mind and masked his scars but that doesn’t change who he is.” 

“No.” Peter brought an orchard back to life with nothing more than a few words and a pulse of green from his palms, gold brightening in his eyes. “No, it doesn’t change who he is and yes, it is in my nature to want to love, but this is _different_ , May.” 

“Different.” May hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “Peter, you _cannot_ go back and see him.” 

“Of course I can.” The wind warmed around them as May’s hold on the Winter eased even further, and Peter created a pomegranate tree from nothing more than his will, coaxing it from the soil and stretching it towards the sky. “What is there to stop me?” 

“My child.” May’s face fell into sadness. “Oh, you think you can go back and forth to the Underworld, but you cannot. It doesn’t matter what connection you think you forged with the Deadpool or how wonderful your months–” 

“ _Months_?” 

“–you’ve been gone for almost six months.” She confirmed and Peter’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I do not know how he fooled you for all that time, but you _cannot_ return to him. Once the portal to the Underworld is closed, no one can come through unless it is time for their soul to pass by Cerebus and through to Charon. You will never see him again.” 

“Yes.” Peter said firmly and May paled at the belief in his voice. “Yes, I will see him again. The Fates have woven us together and we will not be torn apart.” 

“Peter.” May whispered. “Oh Peter, what have you done?”

Peter only touched his lips where they were stained with pomegranate juice and a remnant of Wade’s blood, and _smiled_. 

***************

***************

All life failed in the Underworld. 

Any humanity left in the souls that came to Charon flickered and fell away before they departed the ferry, the darker souls in the deeper places writhed in an existence that was only alive enough to cause pain and the rest was nothing but death. 

The grass Peter had brought to green as they kissed withered away to chaff and scattered, the flowered hedges wilted and the orchards fell to ruin until all was black and bleak and bare again. 

All life _failed_ , and as the beautiful pomegranate tree lost it’s color and then it’s leaves and the fruit rotted on wasted soil, Wade let his own power fail, let it seep away like blood into the cracks of the throne room, taking his glamour along with it and leaving him scarred and twisted and in body racking _pain_. 

Everything _hurt_ and Wade couldn’t manage the energy to will it away. _Pain_ and _Panic_ roamed freely, not corralled by his will any longer, and _Heartbreak_ and _Self Loathing_ grew content in his psyche until Wade could hardly hear over the noise in his own head. 

“ _You sent him away_.” one voice hissed, day after day after day. “ _It’s your own fault you’re sad now_.” 

“ _You did the right thing_.” another snarled for weeks at a time. “ _Perhaps you have some humanity left after all, to spare the beauty an eternity of your horror_.” 

“ _You are disgusting_.” Abrupt and scathing, repeating for ages and ages. “ _No wonder the humans tell horror stories about you_.” 

“ _They call you the devil Deadpool, perhaps you should act like it_.” Encouragement to awful deeds, unrelenting in his ear. 

“ _Stop letting the souls circle in peace, force them to pay for their sins_.” Coaxing, nearly pleading, non stop for more minutes than Wade could count.

“ _Stop standing idly by, command this place like the damnation it is_.” 

“ _He was a creator god, you made yourself into a god of destruction. Prove it_.” 

“ _Violence. Anger. Destruction. You are so good at it. Unleash it all_.”

“ _Burn it all to the ground_.” 

“ _Get back at Olympus for what they did to you. They wanted you when you won the war and then forgot you here below_.” 

“ _The Fate’s spun those threads and then severed them just as quickly_.” 

“ _You are meant to be a madman, meant to be cursed, why don’t you enjoy it a little_.” 

“ _Burn it all to the ground.” “You are disgusting.” “He is never coming back.” “You should have forced him to stay.” “You should have forced him to love you.” “You should have forced him_ –” 

“NO!” Wade fell from the throne to his knees on the unforgiving stone, dragged his fingers across the surface until they bled. “No no no. Please. _Please_ –” 

So long he’d been alone with the voices and the pain and after Peter had come and gone it all seemed _worse_. It was so much _worse_ , it was so much _worse_ , he _couldn’t_ –he _couldn’t_ –he _couldn’t_ –

 _Warmth_. 

Wade froze when he felt the softest ray of sunshine on his skin, the barest puff of summer wind, the lightest hint of something floral and beautiful in the air. 

“….Pete?” 

There it was again, warmth and sunshine, summer wind and flowers and Wade forced himself to sit up and look and _there_ – there on the pomegranate tree was a single bud forming on the tip of the highest branch, turning from brown to green and then unfurling into a beautiful leaf as Wade watched in shock. 

And then another, joining the first, a third joining those two and as the god’s jaw fell open in disbelief, the pomegranate tree leafed out entirely until it was green and healthy and glowing. 

“… _what_?” 

It had been so long, or maybe it hadn’t been long at all, but it felt like _forever_ since Peter had gone and yet here was life, proof of the creator god, right here in the Underworld. 

“Oh.”

“ _Pete_.” 

*****************

*****************

The pomegranate tree grew at something of a regular pace, the leaves lengthening until flower buds appeared, the flowers opening into brilliant colors a while after, the first signs of fruit coming along much later after that. 

And on the day the fruit was ripe, Wade stumbled from his throne and lurched towards the tree, leaving _Pain_ and _Panic_ , _Heartbreak_ and _Self Loathing_ behind as he plucked a red pomegranate from a tall branch and broke it open to stare at the ripeness within. 

“Are you going to eat that without me?” 

Wade’s head jerked up when he heard Peter’s voice and when he tried to speak, the words failed the first time. “P–Pete–” 

“I told you I’d come back.” Peter was almost painfully beautiful, his eyes a season wiser and skin a summer more golden, the green at his finger tips swirling in the air as if he couldn’t quite contain his power. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

“You–” Wade glanced back down at the mouthwatering fruit then up again to Peter. “You aren’t allowed back in my realm without permission, no one passes Cerebus without my knowing. How are you here?” 

“Oh my love.” Peter touched his lips gently. “I never really left. I carried a piece of you the surface and left a piece of myself here.” 

“When you bit me.” Wade said numbly. “And I bled.” 

“Only after we shared a pomegranate.” Peter acknowledged. “Something of me and something of you.” 

“I–” _Despair_ , not a new companion but one that had made itself so loud after Peter had gone the first time. _He’s only here because he is bound to this place._ “I didn’t want you to return to me because you had to, Pete.” 

“I chose to stay because I wanted to.” Peter said simply, easily. “I’m not bound to this place, Wade. I’m bound to _you_. Willingly. My choice, not yours.” 

And then with teasing smile, “I mean, you didn’t _have_ to let me force feed you pomegranates and you could have pushed me away when I bit you. So I suppose this is sort of your choice, too.” 

“My choice.” _Hope_ , blooming unexpectedly and nearly taking Wade’s breath away and then all at once it was crushed when _Self Loathing_ hissed, “ _Your scars. Your glamour is gone_.” 

“Oh.” Wade dropped the fruit and turned away, hiding his face. “Pete, I–” 

“I thought you were going to kidnap me again.” Peter’s smile didn’t even waver as he ambled in closer to the tree, plucking a piece of fruit of his own and breaking it open, inhaling the syrupy sweet scent and smiling as he scooped the seeds free. “I even waited by the lake, sure you’d spring up and take me away.” 

“You need to give me some time.” Wade mumbled, stumbling blindly up the stairs to his throne, desperate for the cover the shadows would provide. He needed a moment to gather his power, to flex his will and cover his scars and his ugliness. “Pete, please just give me a minute.” 

“Wade.” The creator god might have just been light on his feet, it might have been his magic, but suddenly Peter was there right in front of Wade, pushing him back into the throne and crawling onto his lap to straddle his thighs. “Why are you hiding from me?” 

“I–I–” Wade had thought he’d forgotten what it meant to be terrified, but right now he was _terrified_ as Peter brought his palms up to frame his face, fingers stroking careful lines over his cheek and jaw. “Pete–” 

“I’ve missed you.” Peter leaned in and pressed their mouths together, inching closer until they were touching everywhere possible. “ _Mmmm_ , my love. Haven’t you missed me?” 

“Of course I have but–” 

“But?” Peter bumped their noses together, slid his hands beneath Wade’s tunic and flattened his palms to the rough skin. “But what?” 

“Do you see me?” Wade caught Peter’s wrists and held him still. “Pete, do you _see_ me? This is me, this Deadpool, the scars and the–” he swallowed. “–the demons at my feet. My glamour is–” 

“Unnecessary.” Peter glanced down to the foot of the throne and then kicked out at _Panic_ and _Pain_ until they scattered, waved his hands at _Self Loathing_ and _Heartbreak_ until they slunk away and said conversationally, “I had to compromise with May, you know. She is upset I want to be here, but I promised to be on the surface for an equal part of the year so the two of will have to learn to share.” 

“Share.” It felt incredible to be the recipient of Peter’s smiles again, to feel the lithe body against his own and see the open, _honest_ , affection in the golden brown eyes. Wade was still trying to understand it all, still tempted to cringe away from the light, but Peter was smiling and _touching_ him and pressed close as if nothing was wrong and he didn’t see anything awful even when Wade’s glamour was gone. 

“Share.” Wade said again and this time he tried for a smile. “I have to share with May? I don’t share well Pete, I don’t– don’t think that will work.” 

“You ancient gods are so selfish and petty!” Peter’s laugh was clear and bright and intoxicating. “But that’s why I left the pomegranate tree behind! When the leaves fall, I’ll go back to May, and when the fruit is ripe, I will return to you. It’s balanced! Learn to share!

Wade tipped his head back onto the throne and squeezed at Peter’s waist, trying not to let his roiling emotions spill out and over. “You’ll come back to me when the fruit is ripe?” 

“Like the seasons, my love.” Peter promised, and then with a thoroughly enticing wiggle, “Now then, aren’t you going to tell how happy you are to see me?” 

“I uh–” Wade pressed at Peter’s waist again and the gorgeous creator god came closer, sparking his magic until the air was filled with aphrodisia and Wade’s body was _surging_ to answer the invitation. “I just barely got Cerebus trained to be vicious again, you’re going to ruin them.” 

“Oh no, not a vicious Cerebus!” Peter gasped in mock horror, then tipped his head back and _whistled_ , and in the distance, Cerebus answered with an excited howl. 

“And um, if you’re going to stay, you’ll need a throne.” Wade said next and Peter’s eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Unfortunately there isn’t room for a second one in here so…”

“So, I suppose I’ll have to sit on your lap.” Peter said solemnly. “Any other complaints, oh guardian of the Underworld?” 

“I thought I’d lost you.” Wade’s voice cracked then and Peter magicked a pomegranate blossom out of thin air and into his palm, dusting the petals over Wade’s lips.

“Never, my love. _Never_.” 


End file.
